on the beach, alone, with a White supremacist, it's getting dark.A Poem by h d e rushinthere is no sky, no horizon, no azimuth. no filaments. no cream filling. no sea monsters. no static cling. no leatherback turtles. no figure skating. no angles. no crossdressers. no pistols. no Americans. no barbeque sauce. no California. no deliquescence. no wealth. no iron. no right turns (on red) no pencils sharp enough. no paper cuts. no humming sounds. no piquancy. no childbirth. no fugitives. no speed. no brittle bones. and no f*****g UTOPIA.
© 2019 h d e rushinFeatured Review
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Added on August 29, 2019Last Updated on August 29, 2019 Author
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